Because the Gods Keep Laughing
by Kashii Ai
Summary: It has to be a joke of the Gods-yet as Hiccup's relationship with Toothless grows, so does his confidence as a viking. Hiccup's and Toothless's growing friendship as seen through first viking rites of passage. Canon friendship!fic, told through drabbles.


**Disclaimer:** All original How To Train Your Dragon characters, story, and affiliated media are copyright (c) 2011 by Dreamworks Animation. Kashii Ai, Cassie Drey, and any associated names/companies in no way own the Artemis Fowl series.

_Becuase the Gods Keep Laughing_ Story copyright (c) 2010 by Kashii Ai, Cassie Drey, and any associated names/companies

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**Chapter One:**** First Act of Nerve**

"Ooohhh, the Gods hate me. Some people lose their knife, or their mug, but not me. I managed to lose an entire _dragon_?"

Hiccup hates meandering through the woods. He really does. Especially when nothing seems to go right. He kicks at dirt clods and vegetation on the trail, thinking on his own idiocy, and wondering if he'll ever be competent enough. His father will be disappointed, if this continues to go the way it is. Nature is even mocking him, with the beautiful sunlight streaming through the canopy. The greens of late summer are rich around him, and the heady smell of growing things drifts lushly on a light, damp breeze. The humidity is killing him.

He stops before a branch so _conveniently_ blocking his path. He offers it an emerald glare, and pushes the springy wood aside. _THWACK!_

"OW!"

He clutches and rubs at his right temple, and fumes his best at the offending plant. It seems to be split off from the primary tree, and trails down into the full trunk. He follows the curve of the wood, and freezes. Trees and vegetation stand in chaos down to the North, scattered, broken—it cuts a clear path. His legs feel something like sawdust as he begins to follow it, cautious and curious. He peeks over the hill that marks Raven's Point. The dragon can't have gotten that far and—

_Oh Gods there it is_, _there it is!_

He flattens himself behind the hill. His lungs have suddenly decided it necessary to suck in huge clumps of air, and his heart is beating a loud tattoo into his chest. He takes deep breaths, wills himself to look up, again. There it is. The creature is large, black, entangled. Huge spiky wings fall in hill and valleys over its back, ruffled up by its disparate position. He stares, and slowly, cautiously, climbs over. His throat is suddenly dry, despite the moisture in the air that makes his russet hair curl.

He walks around it. He stares, to make sure his eyes don't deceive. The mighty Night Fury. It's bound before him, languid and helpless—it's even knocked out. It's completely and utterly in his power. Euphoria explodes, and he walks forward, buoyed by this new sense of power. So this was what it was like. He can't help himself as he cracks a grin, "Oh wow . . . I—I . . . I did it. Oh, I did it!" he advances, watching the creature, "This—this fixes everything!"

He steps forward, and places his foot on a scaly, jet-black leg.

"Yes! I have brought down this mighty beast—"

And the behemoth shifts. He stumbles back, as the heavy sound of bellows cuts the air. The dragon is breathing and shifting, large limbs and wings moving as it wakes. His heart picks up a few beats per minute, and he raises the dagger that's somehow found its way among his shaking hands. He holds it before him, watching warily. He follows the cadence of movement up, from wings to limb to head.

The eye opens.

He finds himself penetrated by ancient moss and ebony, and he can't help but notice the coincidence to his own eye color. Green and green clash, rub, and hold, and his heart manages to somehow kick it up a few more notches. He tries to shake the feeling that a Night Fury can see into souls, and finds that he can't. He raises his dagger. He takes deep breaths. He stares it down with venomous green eyes.

"I'm gonna kill you, Dragon. I'm gonna . . . cut out your heart . . . and take it to my father."

Inhale, exhale. Kill, kill, kill. He can do this. He can _do_ this. His grip on the weapon tightens. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

"I am a viking." His stomach is doing backflips. "I am a _viking_!"

He raises the dagger, and biceps and triceps and musculature all tighten as he prepares to drive through flesh. He lingers over it, muscles tensing. He hears the Fury emit a sound, and a soft _flump._ Green and black like his own eyes flood his head, and guilt and fear somehow worm its way into his chest. His arms are suddenly noodles, and the hilt of the dagger clunks against his head. He can't do it.

He _won't _do it.

He opens his eyes, to see the dragon lying still. Its resigned itself to death. He can see the soft rise-and-fall cadence of its life force, entering and leaving its lungs. It's so slow, even for a rhythm that should be frightened. Hiccup's eyes flicker to the ropes, binding the limbs and the wings. He can't help but admit that the creature is beautiful, in a dangerous, sleek sort of way. It's a predator and flier, designed for stealth and speed. The guilt gnaws. He can't help it.

"I did this . . ."

Gods, Hiccup must be stupid.

He does it anyway.

The slither of blade-on-rope is abrasive and frantic against his ears. He throws glances over his shoulder, the sudden disorientation from flickering his eyes between the woods and his work making him dizzy. He can feel the dragon begin to shift and move as he frees it, bond after bond breaking.

The dragon moves in rapid-fire.

Once again, their eyes battle, and Hiccup is listening to the jagged sighs of his own breathing. Roles reversed, he's at this creature's mercy, now. Those eyes are so ancient—they lord over him, and he realizes in a rush that humans cab never fully conquer the royalty that is nature. A giant paw is pressed against his chest, pressing life from him.

He's going to die humbled and small.

The scream is unearthly, spooky, unnatural; it raises the hair on his body. And suddenly, the weight is lifted from his chest. The noises of a large creature breaking past plant matter fall across the clearing, and slowly, slowly, Hiccup opens his eyes. The Night Fury is flying away. A few crashes and miss starts, and it's gone.

He's alive.

Oh, Gods, he's _alive_.

He stands on a body like lead. He takes a few steps.

"Heeuuurrrgghhh . . ."

His world falls to black with a soft thud.

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**A/N:** So, this is my second non-Soul Eater fic in like . . . what, a month and a half? The plot bunnies keep biting meeeee. TT_TT

Those of you who also read my SE stuff, PLEASE DON'T BRICK ME! *hides behind barrier* As soon as I get caught up on my homework, I'll start prewriting my SE stuff, I _promise_! It's at the top of my fandom priority list! I swear! On my FFN profile! *peeks out from barrier*

ANYWAY.

God, I love this fandom already. Hiccup is so adorkably cute-as-a-button I don't even. I had a crush like five minutes into the movie. XD

So, this is a canon fic, yep yep. I feel like I haven't written any literary fanfiction in a long time, so I very much enjoyed writing this. ^^

This one was beta'd by Shinigamishi, and also, special thanks to Primi-tan for the canon dialogue~

Updates will probably be pretty frequent—I don't have to do any plotting (whoo hoo~), and the pieces will be drabbles. I hope you enjoyed!

**_PLEASE REVIEW!_**


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